


Puppy love

by PLISA



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Bellarke are puppy parents, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, couch sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PLISA/pseuds/PLISA
Summary: Clarke’s new puppy seems to be scared of men, but for some reason she loves Bellamy to death. And it’s driving her heart insane.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 23
Kudos: 187





	Puppy love

**Author's Note:**

> I told you I would be back soon! 😊 How’s everyone doing?
> 
> I got this idea a while ago but it wasn’t until yesterday that it made sense in my head, so I hope you enjoy it 🐶 (It’s all very much needed Bellarke fluff) 
> 
> Remember to follow me on Twitter for updates and whatnot! @PLISAwrites
> 
> Happy reading! 💙

Clarke didn’t really think it through, really. How could she?

The second she saw her little, plushy face and her pink tongue hanging out from her almost toothless mouth at the shelter, she was sold. And perhaps adopting a puppy when she had unbelievably tiring shifts at the hospital hadn’t been the greatest of her ideas, but oh well. She was totally not going to leave that little soul behind.

She knew she would be fine, anyway. Raven lived only two blocks away, and she had been at the shelter in the first place because her friend wanted to get a dog. She ended up not making up her mind (for reasons Clarke couldn’t wrap her head around — they were all too adorable), so she knew Raven wouldn’t say no to dog-sitting. None of her friends would, really, so she was fine. 

Or so she thought. 

Little Picasso made herself at home in her apartment faster than she had expected. She was quite intelligent too, as potty training didn’t become such an issue. A few slips here and there, but she was mostly okay. She was a happy dog as well, which filled her heart the most. Two days in, and she already knew she had made the best decision of her life. 

Raven loved Picasso, and she clearly loved her back. She had taken some walks with them so that the puppy would get used to her, but she seemed to have accepted her from the very start. Which was a big relief — that was one less problem she had to worry about. 

When Harper and Emori heard about the new member of the Griffin family, they were quick to rush to her apartment to meet their new niece, as they now called her. Clarke didn’t object. 

“She’s so energetic,” Harper gasped as she threw Picasso her pink ball down the hall for the tenth time, “And big!”

“And we’ve just come back from a walk,” Clarke sighed, and watched happily as the dog ran back towards Harper, “I don’t know what I’m going to do when she gets even bigger.”

“I will gladly kidnap her for a couple of hours,” Emori smiled as she scratched her behind her ears, “Or days.”

Clarke chuckled, “Will Murphy approve, though?”

The girl rolled her eyes playfully, and brought Picasso between her arms, who happily complied with the cuddles, “He would never say no to two sets of puppy eyes. Am I right, you little fluffy ball?” 

Clarke was about to agree when her doorbell rang, startling the three of them. Picasso growled, which she had never done before, and Clarke momentarily freaked out. 

“It’s Roan!”, Raven shouted from the kitchen. She peered her head inside her living room, “I told him about Pic and he got so excited I couldn’t say no,” she gave Clarke an apologetic smile, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” the girl waved a nonchalant hand in front of her face. Raven then disappeared down the hall and towards the front door.

“Roan, huh?”, Harper raised a knowing eyebrow.

“What did I miss?”, Emori whispered, clearly too amused by the whole situation. 

Clarke smirked, “They have been  _ hanging out _ for some weeks now,” she rolled her eyes, “We all know what that means.”

Emori raised a proud eyebrow, matching Harper’s expression, “Quite the upgrade from Wick, huh?”

Before she could respond, the two of them walked into the living room. The second Roan’s eyes laid on Picasso, his whole expression changed. She had never seen him look so soft, so welcoming, so… not like him. She liked it. 

“Hey, girl,” the man kneeled down to match her level, and extended his palms upwards so she could sniff him. She remembered then that Roan had two dogs, so he probably knew how to handle them. But Picasso didn’t move, “Come here, puppy.”

“Go on, baby,” Clarke encouraged her, but the dog still didn’t move. Then, she whimpered and went to hide behind Emori, which made everyone laugh. 

“She’s so cute,” Harper smiled, “Seems like you’re too scary for her, Roan.”

“Seems like it,” he chuckled, and tried to call for her again without any luck. The puppy stayed hidden behind Emori, no sign of her changing her attitude any sooner.

Clarke was quick to react. The last thing she wanted was to make Roan feel bad when he had taken the time to go all the way to her apartment, “She probably thinks you’re too tall and big,” she explained, which may have been true.

As far as she knew, Picasso was only used to the girls who worked at the shelter, and none of them had obviously Roan’s physique. She wondered if dogs could smell testosterone, and if perhaps she felt scared because she thought Roan was too...imposing. She made a mental note to read more into that later.

Picasso ended up not getting close to him, but eventually she came out of her hiding spot and laid down on her little bed. However, her behaviour had been something completely new and unexpected to Clarke, and it raised a tiny red flag in her head. Perhaps she was worrying too much about something that may not happen again, but she needed to see it with her own eyes. She needed to know if her suspicions were correct. 

So, the next day, she sent a text to the group chat inviting the boys over to test her theory. 

“Picasso’s favourite Uncle is here!”, Jasper’s voice echoed through her apartment before she even heard the front door, “Oh, and Monty too.” 

Clarke chuckled before following the sound of their footsteps. She caught Picasso looking right at them with big eyes from her position on the sofa, and she mentally crossed her fingers. This had to work. 

Jasper wiggled a bag of treats in front of him, catching the puppy’s attention even more. But she still didn’t leave her spot between the cushions, “Come here, girl! Come with Uncle Jasper, who is by far the greatest Uncle you will ever have.”

Monty laughed next to him, and started blowing kisses at her so she would run towards them. But it didn’t happen, and Clarke was starting to get nervous. Her theory couldn’t be true — she didn’t want it to be. And it didn’t make sense, either, as Jasper and Monty were the least intimidating boys she knew. If they failed to get her trust, that was it.

“Try going up to her slowly,” she told them, and mentally hoped she wouldn’t run away.

The two of them started taking careful steps towards the puppy, but as soon as they reached the end of the couch, Picasso started whining and looking worriedly at Clarke. Jasper and Monty stopped right on their tracks, hearts racing at her unexpected reaction.

“You weren’t kidding,” Monty thought out loud, and watched as the dog hopped off the sofa and ran towards her owner. 

“I’m so sorry, guys,” she gave them an apologetic look as she rubbed Picasso’s torso in an attempt to calm her down, “I don’t know why this keeps happening. I thought it would be just about Roan because he’s just so—”

“Big and intimidating?”, Jasper gave her a look, “Happens to the best of us.”

She almost asked him what he meant, then decided she probably didn’t want to know, so she continued, “But it seems to be a problem with men in general, maybe? I don’t know.”

“Huh,” Monty tilted his head, “Let me Google it.” 

Clarke looked down at the now calm puppy sleeping at her feet, and frowned. There should be a logical explanation for all of it, but even if there was, she couldn’t help but think this was quite the inconvenience. Her options for babysitters had now been cut in half, and she really needed all the help she could get.

After a few minutes, Monty seemed to have found absolutely nothing factual. Some puppy blogs pointed out to them being scared of men with high levels of testosterone while others said female dogs were likely to gravitate towards them, which obviously wasn’t the case. She felt lost, and profoundly confused. This couldn’t be a normal reaction, could it?

She considered asking the vet on their next visit, but—

“Hello!”

Her heart jumped when she heard his deep voice, mentally cursing for forgetting to close the damn front door again. She should probably pay a little more attention to that. Bellamy’s head quickly peeked into the living room, a huge smile flashing in his face the moment he spotted Picasso at Clarke’s feet. 

“Don’t get your hopes up, buddy,” Jasper gave him a knowing look, “She’s scared of men.”

Bellamy frowned, “She’s what, now?”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her,” Clarke sighed as she tried not to blush under his gaze.  _ Get a grip _ , “She got scared of Roan yesterday and I thought it was because he looked too big in her eyes, but now she’s scared of Monty and Jasper too.”   
  


“And we are nowhere near the big and intimidating mark,” Monty said matter-of-factly.

“But I’m still her favourite Uncle,” Jasper pointed an accusatory finger at him, his words a warning, “Don’t even bother, Blake.”

Bellamy put his hands up in defeat, then turned his attention back at the puppy. Sitting down on the floor, he patted the ground in front of him, catching her attention. But Clarke knew exactly what was going to happen next. Whines, running away, shaking. She braced herself.

Picasso sat down at her feet, looking right at Bellamy. At least twenty second had passed, and no signs of distress. But Clarke knew better than to get her hopes up. If she was scared of Monty and Jasper, there was simply no logical way she wouldn’t be scared of Bellamy. He wasn’t as bulky as Roan, but Bellamy was… big. He was tall, shoulders broad, hands big. Certainly not a soft, welcoming guy at a first glance. 

Her heart suddenly jumped. God, why was she getting nervous just by thinking about Bellamy’s complexion? Was she fifteen? She mentally shook her head, and focused her attention back on the rather interesting scene that was unfolding in front of her.

“Come here, girl,” Bellamy encouraged her. 

Picasso then wagged her tail.

“Wait a damn second,” she heard Jasper’s voice somewhere in the background, but she was so shocked by what happened next that every sense became a blur.

Picasso ran towards Bellamy the way she would run towards Raven or Emori, and proceeded to lick his hands as he attempted to pet her. He laughed at her excitement, clearly too sweeped into the moment to even consider what it all meant. 

“She likes you,” her voice came out a whisper, and she doubted he had even heard her. But she didn’t care. All she cared about was Picasso kissing Bellamy all over, letting him pet her, wagging her tail so fast she thought it would fly away. 

“Looks like I was wrong,” Jasper leaned casually on one of the cushions as he watched them with an amused smirk, “Bellamy’s not her Uncle. He’s her  _ Dad _ .”

Bellamy’s heart stopped, and he made the mistake of looking right at Clarke. He swore he saw a hint of a blush on her pale cheeks, but he was too flustered to tell. It was during times like these when he tried to avoid her gaze at all costs. Because one simple look at those eyes and it was over. The blue in them was simply spellbinding. He wondered then if she knew what effect he had on him, what she would think if she knew. 

He wished to know what ran through her mind when she looked at him, but at the same time he was madly scared of finding out the truth.

“She seems to like you,” Clarke’s voice brought him back to reality. She gave him a small smile, “Against all odds.”

He smiled back, and scratched Picasso behind her ears. She was the cutest puppy he had ever seen, that went without question, and the fact that she liked him made his heart full.

“It’s just weird,” Monty frowned, “How’s Bellamy any different from the rest of us?”

“Because he’s her Dad!”, Jasper exclaimed dramatically, “Of course she’s gonna love her Dad. Don’t you, puppy? Ah shit, I forgot she hates me. Nevermind kid, don’t answer.”

Clarke rolled her eyes playfully, “She doesn’t  _ hate  _ you,” she stated, “She’s just going through a… phase.”

Jasper ended up texting the groupchat a picture of Picasso and Bellamy playing on Clarke’s living room floor and announcing that Picasso had a Dad now, to which everyone replied that  _ obviously  _ she was going to love Bellamy. But Clarke tried not to think about it too much, or else her mind would travel places it shouldn’t be in at all.

"Crush" was such an infantile word, she thought, one that must have been invented by older folks, the ones with an interest in making fun young love. Clarke hated it for many reasons. But whatever. For the lack of a better word, she didn't have a  _ crush _ on Bellamy, absolutely not. She just loved him a lot. As friends. Just like she loved Monty or Jasper. 

Well. 

Perhaps not exactly like  _ that _ , but it was not a crush. 

She had crushed on Bellamy once, a couple of years back, after her breakup with Finn. But she blamed that one on her inability to think clearly, and the fact that Bellamy had been there every minute of every hour to make sure she was truly okay. She mistook his concern with something else, but she eventually managed to get back into the real world. 

There was simply no way she had a crush on Bellamy, and he couldn’t have a crush on her, either. He had known her for over four years — he would’ve made a move. He had dated other people while she had been available, so it wasn’t as if he had missed his chance. He wasn’t into her, and that was alright. Or, at least, she liked to pretend it was. 

But the whole situation with Picasso wasn’t helping her at all. 

Bellamy simply had no rights to look so… soft while playing with her puppy. Who did he think he was? He seemed to have fallen in love with her, which she couldn’t really blame him for, but that came with him spending a lot more time at her apartment, going with them on walks.

It wasn’t a bad thing at all — Bellamy was her best friend and she liked spending as much time with him as she could, but… Old feelings that should’ve died a long time ago were starting to resurface, and as much as she tried to drown them back down, they always managed to come up. 

Now, as he threw Picasso’s pink ball into the sunset, watching with an amused smirk as she chased after it, she doubted she would ever manage to extinguish those feelings at all. 

“She’s such a smart dog,” she heard Bellamy mutter besides her. Hands in his pockets, he turned around slightly to look at her. The last lights of the day made the freckles on his face stand out even more.

Picasso ran back towards Bellamy, jumping onto him without any warning. He laughed as he rubbed her behind the ears, a spot he had learned was her favourite. 

Clarke couldn’t help the soft smile that drew on her lips, “She likes you a lot, you know?”

“I can tell,” his smile had never been bigger. He kneeled down to pick up the ball, then threw it again, “Has she gotten any better about her ‘I hate men’ phase?”

“Not really, no,” Clarke frowned, recalling the day before, when she had ran into Emori and Murphy on their morning walk and Picasso had hidden behind her legs when Murphy attempted to pet her, “It’s just you.”

“Jasper is pretty keen on the Dad theory,” he half-chuckled, trying to sound nonchalant about it. He wanted to know what she thought about the implications, but he was not going to risk sounding as desperate as he really was. 

“Um, yeah,” she mimicked his laugh, hoping she didn’t sound too awkward. Her heart accelerated, and she felt like a total mess, “About that,” Bellamy looked briefly back at her with curious eyes before Picasso stole all his attention again, “It’s okay if you don’t, you know, feel comfortable about it.”

“What?”, he frowned, “Of course I’m not uncomfortable, Clarke. Why do you even ask?”

She wrapped her arms around herself to shield her from the sudden cold breeze, “I don’t want you to feel like you’ve got any obligations to be with her all the time. Just that.”

“I’m here because I want to be,” he looked back at her, and for a second she thought she saw hurt in his eyes, “I thought you knew that.”

“And I know that,” she hurried to say, “Just… Just in case.”

They stayed at the park for a little longer in comfortable silence, but Bellamy could easily sense that something was up. A dark cloud of unsaid words seemed to have settled over them, and it was about to pour everything down. 

The fact that Clarke had even considered the possibility of him feeling uncomfortable about being called ‘Picasso’s Dad’ hurt just a bit. He understood where she was coming from, really, but still itched inside. Because of course he wanted to be a puppy dad, especially if Clarke was the mom. Who wouldn’t? Who would be insane enough not to accept such an offer?

Then, it hit him. Perhaps she didn’t want him to be Picasso’s Dad. Could that be it?

He walked her back to her apartment, as it was dark already when they left the park, and she invited him over for dinner. He couldn’t bring himself to say no. 

As she was busy putting a pizza in the oven, he paced around her living room while freaking out about why he was pacing in the first place. He was nervous, and he didn’t understand what for. Dinner at Clarke’s apartment happened at least once a week for him, and this shouldn’t feel any different. And yet it did. 

Picasso was wagging her tail happily and chasing Clarke around the kitchen, hoping her intense stare would lure her into giving her human food, and he thought he could get used to it. He could get used to coming back home from work and finding them curled up together, waiting for him. But it felt too good to be true. 

An hour later, he found himself lying on the couch, Picasso curled up over his stomach area, some weird movie Clarke had chosen playing in the background. Clarke was sitting on the loveseat, apparently not paying that much attention to the screen either. When his phone vibrated next to him, he understood why. 

She had sent not one, not two, but three pictures of him and Picasso all cuddled up, and everyone seemed to be enjoying them a bit too much. 

**Octavia** :  _ us blakes just have that effect  _

**Raven** :  _ such a daddy’s girl smh aunt raven is cooler  _

**Jasper** :  _ do u think if i dressed up as bellamy i could fool her? _

**Monty** :  _ ignore him he’s drunk  _

**Monty** :  _ so cute btw <3 _

Bellamy smiled at his screen, “They’re really invested in this relationship, huh?”

“Are you really that shocked?”, she arched a playful eyebrow as she stood up slowly and kneeled in front of them so she could pet Picasso. Bellamy tried not to think about their close proximity. He smiled, and proceeded to pet her as well. Picasso rolled on her back, enjoying the attention all too much. 

They had both apparently decided to ignore how late it really was. It wasn’t the first time Bellamy had crashed at Clarke’s couch, but it had been a while, and something about it was now making him nervous. 

He would be lying if he said he had never seen Clarke as something more, as something else. Countless times had he imagined what they could be if he just was a bit more confident. He was a risk-taker in his daily life, but not when it came to her. Not when his most treasured friendship was at risk. 

Bellamy didn’t look at her with butterflies and happiness, not really. He looked at her with logic and reality, but at the same time he wondered if there was a fairytale awaiting them. He had heard too many stories about best friends turned lovers, then turned strangers, and his heart broke at the mere thought of losing her like that. Of losing her at all. 

“You’re falling asleep?”, he resisted the urge to laugh as he watched Clarke slowly leaning her head on the couch while sitting on the floor, her hand still hovering over Picasso, but not really petting her. 

She struggled to keep her eyes open, “Maybe.”

Bellamy chuckled, and attempted to move, “I’ll let you two get your beauty sleep then,” but Picasso was too heavy even for a puppy, and he didn’t have much luck. 

Clarke’s hand gripped his wrist, stopping him immediately, “Don’t,” when she realised how that had sounded, she quickly cleared her throat, “I mean, you can stay here if you want to. It’s pretty late and Picasso looks quite comfortable on top of you.”

He gave her a soft smile, “Alright. But you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“I’m too tired to move,” she groaned. 

“Come up here.”

She hesitated, not really knowing that he meant. His whole tall body occupied the entire couch, leaving no space unless…

“Come,” he insisted, and seeing that she was essentially falling asleep on the floor, she did as she was told. 

If Bellamy wasn’t overthinking this, neither should she. Without another word, she climbed up next to him, lying down with her back pressed to his side, feeling as one of Bellamy’s arms circled around her form to keep her from falling. 

“Comfortable?”

The size of the couch wasn’t ideal for two people and a big puppy, but it felt strangely nice. 

“Mm,” she mumbled happily, eyes already closed, “You?”

He was still lying on his back with Picasso over his stomach, “Not the best position to sleep in, but I don’t really want to move her,” he admitted apologetically. 

“Oh, Bell,” she immediately opened her eyes and struggled as she turned around to face them. She poked the dog carefully on her head, “Wake up, sleepy head. Let Bellamy move, come on.”

“Yeah,” he groaned as he pushed himself up slightly, making Picasso raise her head, “Dad promises to cuddle you later. Deal?” 

Clarke’s heart jumped at his words, and she tried to ignore the way he had so casually acknowledged his ‘Dad’ role. But she failed. She was now, years later, looking down right at the edge again. And she was about to fall. 

Picasso whimpered a little, but she eventually gave in and jumped off the couch in the direction of her puppy bed just a few feet away. Bellamy was grateful that he could finally stretch his legs again, and in an instant he laid back down with her front pressed against Clarke’s back. 

“All set,” he whispered as his arm circled around her waist, holding her steadily. Clarke hoped he couldn’t feel the way her heart was about to combust. 

She laid still for a very long time. She didn’t know for how long exactly, but it felt like an eternity. Bellamy’s breath had evened behind her, and she assumed he had fallen asleep. But she couldn’t. 

The movie had ended, Picasso was sleeping too, and she should’ve probably been as well given the unbelievably long shift she had the next day, but it proved to be impossible. 

Perhaps she was overthinking this. Did best friends fall asleep willingly and tangled on couches like that? She would Google it if she could reach her phone, but she was afraid she already knew the answer. 

Bellamy groaned and shifted behind her, the hand that was loosely hanging over her stomach now holding her closer. His grip was so strong she couldn’t get out. Not that she wanted to, but breathing was slowly becoming a hard task. 

“Bell,” she whispered, but he didn’t move. She tapped on his arm with her fingers, careful not to wake him up too abruptly. 

“Mm,” was all she got, but at least it was something. 

“Your grip is too tight.”

Bellamy’s eyes immediately shot open, taking his arm back, “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she turned around to give him a reassuring smile, “I just couldn’t breathe for a second there.”

“Sorry,” he said again, and ran a hand through his tired face. 

It didn’t take long for him to absentmindedly wrap his arm around her again, only that this time she was fully facing him. He tried to ignore the tingling of his heart as Clarke buried her head in his chest, feeling the warmth of his body. They had never cuddled like that, but damn. Nothing had ever felt so right.

For a second he considered touching his lips to her forehead, just to see what it would feel like in a moment like that, so intimate. But he was frozen in time, unable to do anything else other than listening to his own heartbeat. 

“Bell,” her voice was so faint it was barely audible. 

“Yes, Princess?”

“Thank you for staying,” she felt her cheeks getting warm, “And thank you for loving Picasso so much.”

He tightened his grip on her, and threw it all out of the window. He wanted nothing else than to make her feel loved, the way she made him feel, so he softly pressed his lips to her warm forehead, lingering for a few seconds so he could remember the sensation later. 

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he mumbled against her skin. 

“I wanted to.”

Clarke gathered all the strength she had left, and looked up. Bellamy’s eyes were already on hers, face so close she would be able to count his freckles if it hadn’t been so dark. At that moment they didn’t need to say anything. Words were meaningless when their eyes said so much. 

He thought he was imagining things. He thought he was imagining her breath picking up, slowly inching towards his own, but when her nose bumped into his, he knew. Clarke wanted this. She wanted this too. She really did. 

Bellamy stared into her eyes for confirmation, for a sign that he wasn’t reading all of it wrong. But deep down he knew there wasn’t much room for error — she was cuddled inside his embrace, bodies tangled, nose touching. How could this mean something else? 

Perhaps it had been a second, perhaps minutes, but the next thing he felt was the universe exploding around him. 

Clarke kissed him. She kissed him like his lips were air and she couldn’t breathe. She kissed him and he was hooked, he was addicted. 

He knew then that nobody else could make his heart jump like that, his stomach turn in all directions, his head spin. The moment she drew back from his lips and looked right into his eyes, he knew he would follow her to the end of the world. 

“I’m sorry,” the words left her lips with such sorrow he almost complained. 

Instead, he pressed their lips together again. 

Her small hands cupped his face, bringing him even closer. The kiss wasn’t hurried, not needy. Their lips moved in a slow sync, tasting every inch of each other, exploring a new part of their relationship that now felt like home. This was where they had always belonged.

Bellamy’s hand was about to reach lower when a new weight on the couch startled them, making them pull away. Soon enough Picasso’s little head made its way between their bodies, tongue out, demanding all the attention. 

Clarke chuckled as Picasso licked her face, “Okay, okay. We love you too, baby. Want to cuddle with us, huh? Is that it?”

She wagged her tail everywhere, signaling that it was exactly what she wanted. Bellamy was quick to pull her into his embrace, lying her down between the warmth of their bodies. 

“Such a spoiled little Princess you are,” he cooed while scratching her head, “Just like your Mommy,” he smirked. 

“And whose fault is that?”, she arched a playful eyebrow, making him laugh. 

“I’ll go spoil Jasper then,” he teased. 

She gave him a look, “You wouldn’t dare.”

He laughed again, making her heart flutter. She loved that sound. Bellamy closed the small space between them once more, pressing his lips to hers shortly. It already felt so familiar, so comforting. 

“About this,” he gave her a small smile, “I’m willing to give us a try, if you want to.”

“I’d love to,” she smiled shyly up at him. 

“Good,” he pressed his lips to her forehead again, a gesture he already loved way too much, “How about tomorrow night I make dinner for my favourite girls?”

Instead of ignoring how her heart jumped inside her chest, she now embraced it. This was how Bellamy made her feel, how she made him feel in return, and that meant there was not a better thing in the entire world.

In that moment, she realised that her whole universe consisted of one man and a puppy, and she wouldn’t want to have it any other way. 

She smiled, “Your girls would love that.”


End file.
